these, our bodies, possessed by light
by possibilist
Summary: "She asks, Does it ever go away? The unshakable fear that some day, it's going to go wrong, it's going to get bad again?" or, five times rachel asks robert for advice. trigger warning, but really happy sweet things for the most part. faberry, frannie x robert.


[She asks, Does it ever go away? The unshakable fear that some day, it's going to go wrong, it's going to get bad again?" or, five times rachel asks robert for advice. trigger warning, but really happy sweet things for the most part. faberry, frannie x robert.]

* * *

**these, our bodies, possessed by light (tell me how all this, & love too, will ruin us. tell me we'll never get used to it)**

**.**

_so tell me what my fists keep writing./ my fingers, they open up like gates when i write and the wind is swinging in the wake./ you can see it all if your finger whispers on one word/ slow down and hold what you see just a little while longer._

—anis mojgani, "i'm looking for god everywhere"

…

_1_

She asks, Does it ever go away?

It's late, and Frannie and Quinn have sort of fallen asleep messily on top of each other on the couch, and _Friends _is still playing, and Rachel looks tired but she is still asleep. They're spending the weekend with you in Boston because they've just finished finals, and they're both graduating in May, and Rachel always works hard but Quinn is finishing two theses and you know she's exhausted.

You don't ask Rachel, What? because you know.

The unshakable fear that some day, it's going to go wrong, it's going to get bad again? you say, and she nods. No, you say.

You look over at Frannie and Quinn then, and Rachel does too. Quinn is slumped over on Frannie's shoulder, and Frannie's arm is around Quinn's back, tugging her close. There's a small scar on Quinn's forehead from the accident that sometimes shines different than her skin, and there are tiny lines on Frannie's hands that you remember bandaging as she cried and apologized.

Rachel takes a deep breath.

But it does get less intense, you say. Rachel looks at you, and she might cry, you think.

She's beautiful, as beautiful as Quinn or Frannie but in a different way.

Not easier, you say, but less. The more good days that happen, the more you stop waiting for it to explode.

Rachel bites her bottom lip.

You're scared she's going to get worse than before, right? you ask.

Rachel swallows. I'm scared she'll get worse and actually kill herself, and I'm scared that if I stay it'll kill me too.

You remember when you first started dating Frannie, when you first fell in love with her, waiting as long as you could before you went to her studio after she didn't return phone calls and texts. You remember finding her curled in the corner, arms tight around her folded knees, big blue eyes glimmering completely blank.

I think you have to remember, you say, that Quinn stayed alive for you. Not just you, but you. And that—she broke everything, didn't she?

Yeah, Rachel says.

Frannie doesn't talk about it, and don't tell her I told you this, you say, but she wasn't clean until her third year at university. And I know you don't know her that well but—she wanted to die too. Not in the same ways as Quinn, but she wanted to.

Rachel's eyes get a bit bigger but she doesn't say anything.

And I know Quinn was really beautiful when she was broken, wasn't she? you ask.

Rachel says, The most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

The first time I saw Frannie high, her hand was bleeding and she was sitting beneath this half-finished canvas and I didn't think I'd ever see anything more striking than that. They're remarkable like that, you say.

Rachel nods.

But then we celebrated every week she was clean for a few months. The first week I took her to lunch, and her eyes were so clear, and I just remember sitting across from her and she smiled and I remember thinking that _that _was going to break me.

Rachel smiles.

We're thinking about kids, you say. You smile when you say it, every time. Not immediately, but definitely not just hypothetically either. Because Frannie is different, and I'm different because I fell in love with her. And Rachel? you say, and you take her hand and squeeze. Next time Quinn looks at you before she's going to kiss you, and her eyes are bright and clear and wide, that's all the healing you need to remember.

She sniffles a little but she doesn't cry, and she turns back to the television with a small smile, and you laugh over Brooke Shields being Joey's stalker.

Thank you, she says.

You just nod, and a bit later you watch Rachel wake Quinn up gently to go to bed, and Quinn laughs a little when she untangles herself from Frannie, still dancer-graceful in her hazy sleep, and Rachel takes her hand, and neither of them let go.

.

_2_

She asks, What do you do about the nightmares?

Quinn had just snapped at Rachel at lunch, and then shaken her head and immediately apologized before getting up suddenly and walking toward the bathroom.

Frannie sighed and stood to follow.

Does she have them a lot? you ask.

Rachel says, probably once or twice a month. More if she's stressed.

You nod.

Does Frannie still have them? she asks.

You notice how she adds _still_, and you know she and Frannie have had a few conversations lately over lunches because Frannie's been working more in New York with an installation at The Brooklyn Museum.

She has them, you say, but they're not as often anymore.

Quinn had bad ones last night, she says quietly. Do they make Frannie—

—a bitch? you ask.

Rachel laughs. Yes.

Yeah, you say. Grumpy and short-fused and tired and weird. And then she gets frustrated with herself because of it.

Rachel smiles. Sounds about right, she says.

I've learned to not ask about them, first of all, you say.

Rachel picks at her salad, nodding.

Don't touch her right after she wakes up, you say. Got a black eye from that once.

Rachel tries to decide if you're being serious.

Really, you say. Frannie has a hell of a left hook.

She laughs sadly.

Go make tea, you tell her, and then put it outside the bedroom by the couch, and turn the tv on to one of Quinn's favorite things. Frannie always likes _Moulin Rogue _or _Harry Potter_.

This makes Rachel smile.

You say, And then go and see how she's doing. If she's crying, you can probably hug her. If she's just sitting there—Rachel's eyes flash in careful recognition—touch her shoulder really lightly. And then just—wait. She'll snap out of it. And when she does, take her out to the couch and it's all about the sound and colors.

Should I hold her? she asks.

Yes, you say, unless she wants to hold you instead. This very, very rarely happens with Frannie, but you sense that it's different between Rachel and Quinn.

Okay, she says.

At some point try to get her to go back to bed, you say, or else her back will give her hell in the morning. And the next day's going to be shitty.

Rachel smiles resignedly.

But to minimize the bitchiness, you say, call her out on it gently. Try to get her to take a nap, eat her favorite healthy food so that doesn't stress her out more, but make sure she eats.

Yeah, Rachel says, and you can tell she's taking careful mental notes.

Noise might be hard, so try to be quiet.

She waits a beat before slapping your arm lightly with an incredulous look. Robert.

You shrug with a laugh.

Mostly, though, you say, tell her you love her a lot. When she apologizes—and she's going to apologize _a lot_—just tell her you love her.

She smiles, and she says, Thanks, Robert, she says, and Frannie and Quinn sit back down. Quinn's been crying but she's not now, and Frannie nods once and then takes your hand gently.

You continue lunch, and Rachel asks Quinn, If I order a cookie will you eat one too?

Quinn hesitates but then she nods, and Rachel orders three cookies and eats two of them while Quinn laughs and picks her way through hers.

Frannie gently kisses your cheek and she picks up the check quickly, despite Rachel and Quinn protesting, and after you say goodbye—you and Frannie are taking the train back to Boston; Rachel and Quinn are going back to their apartment—you hear Quinn very quietly apologize, and you see Rachel take her hand and put it against Quinn's cheek, and Frannie stops too, and Rachel kisses Quinn and she says, I love you.

Frannie squeezes your hand as Quinn ducks her head into Rachel's chest, stuck between tears and a smile, and Rachel kisses the top of her head before they turn and walk home.

.

_3_

She asks, Do you ever understand the days where Frannie _has _to paint?

Rachel called you this time, and you can tell she's upset.

You're at work, but you took it anyway when you say it was Rachel—Quinn had pneumonia last week and you and Frannie had debated going up to help them out; Rachel was just about to start a new show.

No, you say, not really. But—do you have days where you have to sing?

Yes, Rachel says, but it's not the same. I don't have to sing the same way Quinn has to write. It's not as—she makes a frustrated noise—I don't blow off commitments or zone out for four hours to sing a fucking song.

You smile a little at her cursing; Rachel doesn't do it very often—when Quinn and Frannie have beers together every other word is _motherfucking, _which makes Rachel roll her eyes—but when Rachel does it's sort of endearing.

I'm sorry, she says.

Don't be, you tell her. I get it. Frannie forgot about my bar exam and stayed in the studio during the entire thing, didn't answer my calls.

Rachel sighs. They just—do it to stay alive, right? That's what we have to remember, I guess.

Yes, you say. She's right, profoundly so. They wouldn't if they didn't have to, you know?

I know, Rachel says. She takes a few deep breaths. She's calmed down when she says, I know, again.

And hey, at least they're good at it, you say.

Rachel laughs, and it's watery, and you know she's been crying.

You Quinn loves you a lot, right?

Yeah, Rachel says, I do.

.

_4_

She asks, You think she'll like it, right?

You put the Tiffany's ring back in Rachel's palm, and Frannie is clapping excitedly, and Lucy starts clapping excitedly although she doesn't know at all what's going on.

You look Rachel straight in the eye and you say, She's going to love it.

.

_5_

She asks, Why did Frannie say yes?

You're at their two-year anniversary party, getting some air on the balcony of their apartment when Rachel joins you, whisky in hand, and asks.

You know things are different with Rachel and Quinn because of Beth, and because Quinn will never carry children.

But when you turn around, Quinn is looking at Lucy dancing with Frannie like she's about to cry, and you say, I think it had a lot to do with Quinn, actually.

Rachel raises her eyebrows.

When Quinn got better, Frannie just—you shrug—knew they'd be okay and that—it took a lot of time and love, Rach.

She smiles. Have I ever told you that you're a really good guy?

You laugh. When you first saw Quinn as _Quinn _you were totally fucked, weren't you?

Rachel laughs too. Absolutely.

Well, that's what happened with Frannie, so. We didn't ever really have a choice, did we?

Not really, she says. The first time she kissed me—

—Yeah, you say. Yeah.

Quinn comes outside then, with three glasses of champagne. She's drunk but graceful still, and you think they've both gotten more beautiful as they've gotten older. Frannie follows Quinn out, and Lucy is inside sleepily playing with Judy.

The four of you look over the city, and Rachel kisses Quinn's cheek, and Frannie smiles.

Frannie elbows Quinn, and then she raises her glass of champagne.

To Quinn and Rachel, she says, for being really hot and lovely lesbians.

Rachel laughs and Quinn rolls her eyes, and you clink glasses, and then Frannie very seriously hugs Rachel tight and says, Thank you, before kissing Quinn's forehead and leading you inside by the hand.

You're holding a sleeping Lucy while you stand close to the balcony door a few minutes later, waiting for Frannie to get her bag, when you hear Rachel ask, so quietly, If Quinn feels ready.

You watch for a few long seconds while Quinn bites her lip, and then Rachel starts to smile and Quinn nods.

Rachel starts to cry, and then she kisses Quinn hard before dipping her head to rest on Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn holds her, and Frannie comes out of the guest room with her bag and glances at them for a second before she turns to you, rubs Lucy's back once, and then says, You always say the right things, you know that?

You shrug.

Frannie leans into your side and she says, She's going to have a cousin soon, isn't she?

You smile. You say, I think so, and when you get outside Lucy sleeps so peacefully the lights of the city don't make her eyelids flutter once.


End file.
